


The Stories of Damijon

by AGRey701000



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: AU ideas, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Randomness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25704562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGRey701000/pseuds/AGRey701000
Summary: Multi-chapter series of random one-shot AU ideas that pop into my head time to time. ENJOY!
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent/Damian Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	The Stories of Damijon

**Author's Note:**

> League of Assassins AU: Jon is kidnapped and raised by the League and Ra's has plans for him but to keep the advantage, he injected Jon with a controlled red Kryptonite serum into him to neutralize his budding powers. It's implied in the story but not elaborated. Classic case of forbidden love gone wrong.
> 
> Languages
> 
> *(1): 'ariduk fi al'aelaa walddakhil-Arabic

**DO NOT REPOST. DO NOT EDIT. DO NOT REBLOG.**

**Disclaimer:** I DO NOT OWN THE DC FRANCHISE OR ANY AFFILIATES.

**Copyright © 2020 Antonia G. Reyes All Rights Reserved.**

^^^^^^^^^^^

**Hell hath no Fury**

_‘It’s funny how accustomed one can become to unimaginable torture...’_

WHAP!

Jon spits blood as he grits his teeth, cracks his neck bones and readies himself for the next attack.

_‘I can barely remember my parents...their names like a sour taste on my tongue...I wonder when they stopped looking for me...’_

A blink--he hears the air behind the flying punch before it lands. He grabs the assassin’s fist mid hit, a twisted smirk crosses his face, and a wicked glint crosses his eyes.

SNAP!

Jon ducks and with a swift, hard kick, he snaps his opponent’s femurs in two, instant flailing and screaming ensue. He drowns in the white noise of agony, sucking in the stale damp air as he hears fast approaching cronies ready to attack.

_‘...all well.’_

________________________

The squelch that follows as Damian takes bullets, debris and gravel out my wounds is nice. I’ve learned to associate the sensation with him. The feel of his cool fingertips grazing my flesh and the way he sucks up the oozing blood from the angry gashes.

“Why do you do that?” I asked once and he replied with warm molten emerald irises, “I’m disinfecting you.” I laughed at that, he chuckled as he spat the iron-flavored liquid into the basin.

I’m his bodyguard, his ‘pet’ as his grandfather dubbed me. I’m his weapon for him to use any way he pleases. That had been how it was in the beginning, we hated each other and fought like rabid animals to the sick pleasure of the League. Somewhere between trading vicious insults and malicious physical abuses respect formed between us.

I can remember when the first seeds were planted.

________________________

CLANG—CLANK!

He scowls at the whelp whose full force counter defense sent him skidding across the training space, feet dragging two deep and long marks like a strange road. Damian shoots daggers at the boy and instantly charges once more with his katana.

The cretin blocks, blocks, blocks successfully but infuriatingly refuses to strike back causing Damian’s blood to boil. He roars, “FIGHT BACK YOU WEAKLING!” No response follows only the insubordination of a child.

He isn’t usually like this, usually when they spar he gets his worth and now lately the boy has halted all offensives and only defends. It disgusted Damian; he saw it as an insult—as if he wasn’t worth the effort.

Perhaps this was yet another one of his mother’s tests, to train his deduction and hypotheses skills. Was there a lesson to learn? Was this some kind of trick?

Growing tired and frustrated, having swiftly tripped him on his backside, he shoved the tip of his blade in the boy’s face. In a split second, his sparring partner surges up towards him impaling himself in the shoulder to hold and roll them rapidly out of range of a barrage of artillery. As they roll, the weight distribution between them snaps the edge of the sword sticking out of the other boy’s shoulder.

Damian, stricken with momentary shock says nothing as the boy drags him roughly behind a pillar, says nothing when he silently pulls the steel from his body, says nothing when said boy stealthily scales to the second floor of the building, dodges bullet and blade while deviling out death like a reaper.

He only blinks when he sees the boy swiftly behead the perpetrator of the attack.

All is silent once again except for the chilling clap of his grandfather as he materializes out of the shadows like a wraith.

“My, my boy you did not disappoint. I am greatly impressed.” That snake grin slithered across his grandfather’s face and it made Damian stiffen instinctually.

The boy, scraped, cut and with a gaping bleeding wound merely bent the knee before the Demon’s Head, “Thank you Master.” Ra’s looked at Damian who stands straight and astute beside him, “Damian, he has passed my test.” He stares down at the bowed head of the child, “He will make you a loyal dog. Name him will you?” With that, the old man walks away without another word.

The young Demon clenches his fists, “What is your name?” he utters monotonously, the boy lifts his head but not all the way, “I have no name. I need one Master.”

Damian frowned, “You had a name _before_...that will be your name.” The child’s face flickers with an indiscernible emotion but hardens quickly.

Damian demands loudly, “ _What is your name?_ ”

The boy lifts his head fully to lock eyes with Damian’s “Jon”

Emerald irises spark, “Your full name— _now_.”

Jon’s sky blue irises set in a glare, “Jonathan Samuel Kent”

Damian smirks, “ _Louder_.”

Jon scowls but inside he feels something he hadn’t felt in a long time, “Jonathan Samuel Kent!”

“Louder!”

“Jonathan Samuel Kent!!”

“IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE— _LOUDER!_ ”

“JONATHAN SAMUEL KENT!!!”

“LOUDER!”

“JONATHAN SAMUEL KENT!!!”

“LOUDER!!”

“JONATHAN SAMUEL KENT!!!!”

_“LOUDER!!!”_

_“JONATHAN SAMUEL KENT!!!!!”_

The echoes reverberated all around, engulfed them until it was all they could hear. Damian grinned, “Good. Never forget it.”

Jon kept his mouth tightly closed as his new master led him to clean and sew his wounds.

He did not know what to make of it then but that had been the start of something...something as close to beautiful as it could get in the hellscape that was the League of Assassins.

________________________

Being the loyal ‘dog’ of the grandson of the Demon’s Head had its advantages. He was privy to sides of Damian no one had any inkling of yet he began to suspect a hidden agenda. No one knows anyone beyond name and rank so to have the third most powerful member of the League _‘accidentally’_ give tells was suspicious.

He kept his vigilance, did what was asked and nothing more. He was a good soldier, a good ‘companion’ as Damian called him to which Jon would dismiss with a polite scoff.

That is how it went, this strange ‘second act’ of their demented play for all to see. Jon can’t say he hated it, can’t say he liked it because he wasn’t sure what he felt. Feelings were weakness, emotions were implements used against the enemy and in this life, and it was every person for themselves. He supposed he’d numbed and soldered the nerve endings of his humanity, which essentially left him a half-hearted mess.

He was an android, appraising and calculating everything around him, confounded by Damian’s lingering stares he caught from the corner of his eye and the odd ferocity in which he’d fight beside him or defend him.

_He_ was the ‘dog’, the dispensable one that could be replaced in a millisecond. It got to be what Jon eventually deduced as an annoyance and one day he broke composure.

________________________

“I would appreciate it if you’d quit this game you’re playing. It’s not cute _My Liege_.” Jon’s tone was cold and sharp.

Damian flitted his eyes towards his bodyguard, petting the panther as he sat under a tree. The epitome of stone, the assassin merely arched an eyebrow and frowned though deep down Jon’s patronizing tone cut hard. Since that day in the sparing arena, something dislodged in the young man’s heart and a fire lit which only grew with each day, month, year he and Jon were together.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about Kent. Moreover, while we are on the subject of vexations—how hard is it to use my name? Are you deaf or just imbecilic?” Tone equally scathing, Jon scowled and diverted his eyes, rolling them inconspicuously.

Damian watched him intently, emerald irises swirling with an emotion he had yet to name. He scratched the back of the feline’s head receiving an appreciative purr.

A black as coal Pradesh panther with jasper jewels for eyes that glowed in the cloudless moonlit sky. She was gorgeous and lethal, he named her Aadya, a Hindi name that meant “First power; Mother Earth; Goddess Durga” because she was as unforgiving and yet as gracious as the earth. You mistreat or cross her, she punishes with severe prejudice, you treat her with respect and kindness she rewards you with infinite loyalty. It was an unusual trait for a wild cat, which made her even more precious to Damian.

She had come to him by way of Jon, who’d rescued her from death at the hands of poachers during an assassination operation.

Aadya liked Jon because of that, but she’d imprinted on Damian the instant she was laid in his waiting arms. It was an unintentional gift on the bodyguard’s part but nonetheless, it was another reason that endeared him into the good graces of the young Demon.

Aadya mewl growled as she stretched and jumped into the trees for the night, signaling to the humans her time of solitude.

Damian smiled, his eyes softening which was one of the things that Jon saw often but couldn’t or perhaps refused to acknowledge as to why it made his heart skip beats and fluttering to disrupt his stomach.

Sky blue eyes caught on to emerald ones and held them, Jon sighed “...I...apologize M— _Damian_. I’m just not a fan of being made into a fool.”

Damian walked slowly until he was inches from the six foot three man, his face held that quintessential Al Ghul seriousness but it also held a raw sincerity, an unnatural emotion amongst the royal family.

Five foot nine inches stared at Jon, he smelled of smoked spiced wood and citrus, mint on his breath due to his love of mint tea, it nearly made the taller man faint but he emitted his own aural shield to protect him from this infuriatingly alluring creature.

“You’ve been at my side long enough to know I don’t _play_ at anything, least of all truth. If I say or call you anything remotely positive, I mean it.”

Jon reflexively swallowed the lump in his throat to which Damian watched like a predator waiting for the kill.

There was a pause, tense and electric that passed and then Jon cupped the back of Damian’s neck and locked their lips in a burning, blazing kiss that then turned into a wrestling match of tongues both tugging and pulling at each other’s clothing.

It was all encompassing, primal and _dangerous_...Jon’s mind suddenly cleared of the lustful clouding and immediately he broke their embrace, shocked by his impulsive actions and the intoxicated flushed appearance of his Master.

Sucking in the cool breeze, blinking the water out his eyes he bowed stiffly and marched off without another word.

________________________

That began and sealed it; the unquenchable, insatiable obsession that they would later come to understand as love.

At first, there was an unspoken understanding between them—secrecy and discreetness was paramount. They had succeeded at first, any desire or need to be together in private, all they had to do was correlate their time within missions, which were often, and when they were at the fortress, they kept to their own courters and classes. Never giving excuses when ordered to team with others or showing even the smallest bit of affection. Business as usual.

It had been on one of those missions that they’d slipped, caught up in the false security. Had they been thinking clearer, been more alert they would’ve gotten a whiff of the stench of suspicion emitting from Ra’s and Talia.

________________________

They arrived within two hours of each other to a designated safe house off grid. It was always one at a time and they made sure to cover their tracks, observe their surroundings and take differing paths when they left.

However that had not happened this time, both got sloppy. Damian arrived at the house first; had he not been floating on euphoric anticipation, he would’ve noticed two separate shadow spies tracking him amongst the streets. When Jon arrived later, he too had missed the fact he’d reused an old path twice.

Creaking the door to the sparsely furnished house, Jon smiled at the sight of his lover sitting on the couch idly reading a book. When their eyes met, sparks flew and they crashed into one another drowning in passionate kisses, bites until they removed each other’s clothing leaving them stark naked. The energy, though palpable simmered as they took breath, caressing and running their hands all about themselves with their foreheads pressed together.

“أريدك في الأعلى والداخل ... _(I want you on top and inside)_...”* Jon smirked into their kiss and gently pushed Damian into the mattress, maneuvering them in such a way that he could work his way to his goal while also being mindful of how his partner’s body behaved.

His hands massaged into the supple flesh, fingers treading expertly within the forbidden space between Damian’s legs. Only the soft sighs and mutterings affirmed Jon’s successful access and permission to enter. Aligning his hips, taking steady breaths he slides into his lover with a shuddering hiss and pleasurable sigh. He began the rhythmic thrusting, slithering arms wrapped around his neck as Damian pulled himself against Jon’s chest and sat himself securely on top of the guard’s pelvis and thighs. His legs were bend under his bottom to offer leverage as his hungry eyes locked on to Jon and he swiveled and Jon thrusted upwards. They moved with great synchrony like a tango sharp and gracefully seductive.

Passion fueled they fire as they toppled, tossed and engulfed each other, sex was harsh and uncoordinated at the beginning which elicited embarrassment and disaster but as they educated themselves, grew closer and more open with their emotions, carnal acts gradually became one of the instruments of love. They were like yin and yang, balanced and harmonious.

________________________

Laying sandwiched under the sheets, languidly kissing and stroking each other, Damian humming a nameless tune as he raked his long fingers through Jon’s thick raven locks and sank deeper into the mattress, nestling his chin into the crook of Jon’s neck.

“We can leave all this behind...”

Sky blue irises blinked away the sleepiness and he turned towards Damian with curiosity, “Leave what?”

Emerald eyes locked on to the other man’s, conviction evident, “The League...my Mother...my Grandfather, _everything_.”

Fully awake, Jon gently detached and moved next to Damian as he lifted himself on one arm to get a good look at his lover. This was unlike him, granted the prospect was tempting and it wasn’t as if he enjoyed being under the thumb of such tyrannical rule but....

“ _Damian_...it’s the League of Assassins. Your family will not take kindly to your disappearance.”

Jon never got a chance to hear whatever retort Damian had before the safe house was bombarded with tear gas and sudden darkness.

________________________

He’s dragged across concrete, the numbing pain shooting up his arms and through his muscles as his head lulled in and out of consciousness.

He tries to speak but his mouth feels dry like cotton; he blinks repeatedly to regain focus even in the scarcely lit halls, the random dripping of water rippling in his ears. Suddenly an acrid stench hits his nose and he scrunches up his face in disgust. The fumes are enough to snap him to attention and just as he’s about to move, he’s thrown to the ground. In that moment he moves his hands and feet but realizes that there are restraints immobilizing him.

“How pitiful. All that potential gone to waste.” Icy and pompous, Ra’s sneered down at Jon’s struggling form, he gave a quick jut of his chin and within minutes Talia with Damian in similar cuffs is brought in. Jon’s eyes spark with rage and he growls lowly, “Let him go. I am solely to blame, punish me.”

The Demon’s Head chuckles darkly as he pointedly glares at his grandson who looked worn and beaten but not severely. The man still held his head insolently high with a defiant expression etched in his face, emerald eyes scolding.

“Does the dog speak the truth grandson?”

Damian glowered at Ra’s, “You’re accomplishing nothing.”

Ra’s raised his eyebrows amusedly, “Grandson you _wound_ me. You haven’t the faintest idea what this is do you?”

For a second Damian frowned and scowled, “Do not insult my intelligence!”

The Demon snickered which fueled Damian’s ire, “Not _this_ pit. This bright putrid substance is green Kryptonite.”

Suddenly Damian’s eyes widened with realization, he yelled and thrashed, “NO— _NO!_ I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO---”

Ra’s’s face became stony, “SILENCE BOY! This is the reprimand for your loose misconduct.”

Ra’s stared contemptibly at his grandson, “I had such high hopes for you, a whole empire to lay at your feet...” He walked over to Jon and roughly pulled the guard by his restraints towards the edge of the pit and in that instant Damian broke his irons and took out several assassins and disarmed his Mother before he was quickly knocked to the ground on his knees once more.

“Disgraceful child!” Talia yelled as she wiped blood from her mouth and jabbed her heel into Damian’s back, pulling his head back by his hair and pressing a knife to his jugular.

“Daughter—stand down!” Ra’s dug his other hand into Jon’s head to force him to look at Damian, “Take a long look mongrel, commit every detail to memory. It will be your last.”

Everything froze and washed away in that moment, all that existed were the lovers. They stared into each other’s eyes, the pipedreams and passions flashing before them. Damian’s face was the embodiment of utter guilt and distress, devastation pouring down his cheeks as his world was moments from ending.

Jon mirrored the other’s feelings, the blood rushing and pulsing in his ears and veins. His mind snapped, as did his chains, he kicked Ra’s on his backside jabbing his fist straight into another assassin’s throat crushing his windpipe and grabbing his gun.

He dashed towards Damian, could feel the bullets whoosh past and scrape him as he proficiently deflected them and returned fire, his eyes never diverting.

Sliding to avoid Talia’s blade he shot her in the shin and shoulder hearing her raged wail as he skidded right up to Damian, who was fighting back opposition, Jon wrapped an arm around the assassin’s waist and pulled him flush against him and latched on to his lips.

Their kiss was poignant and they savored as much as they could, it almost inspired hope but then reality burst the illusion as Damian’s mouth filled with blood. However it was not his but Jon’s, he watched as sky blue irises petrified in a state of shock and he looked down at his chest, the air suddenly replaced by fluid as it registered that he was shot in the lung.

“Pathetic--” yanking the wheezing and valiantly struggling man, the Demon’s Head dragged Jon once again to the pit and as he forced the guard to stand on the edge held only by his hand, Ra’s leaned into his ear, “—I regret neutralizing your powers, perhaps then you would have been a worthy adversary.”

Jon had no time to contemplate that revelation as he received a resounding kick to his stomach and another shot to his chest.

His last sight was Damian thrashing like a beast to get to him, the eternal bittersweet reminder of the man’s indomitable spirit and determination.

Hitting the steaming chartreuse liquid was like being impaled by spikes and the echo of Damian’s screaming as he sunk to the abyss was nails against his eardrums.

________________________

Damian popped his arm back into its socket, biting into the sleeve of his tattered tunic. He breathed shakily and allowed the tears to fall down his cheeks.

His grandfather threw him in a solitary cell because he became too _‘emotional’_. At first, he resisted and received all kinds of torture, all in the effort to force him to renounce Jon, forget his ‘futile loyalty’ and return obediently to the fold. His answer was breaking bones and so Ra’s upgraded towards more evasive ‘persuasion’ methods of the mental variety.

Electroconvulsive therapy only fueled the intensively recurring nightmare of Jon’s demise, which emboldened his heartbroken rage.

Ra’s was sadistic and rather enjoyed waterboarding, ice baths and straightjacket insulin comas.

Eventually he relented and submitted to his family’s will, re-assimilated and resumed his purpose.

________________________

A slight shutter woke Ra’s from his sleep and then when a guard rushed into his room speaking frank and shaken Arabic about some firebomb breaking out in the artillery facility, the Demon’s Head scowled as he dressed to address the issue.

It was a snowball effect, the decimated weapons then the destruction of escape routes and vehicles. On top of all this, his own assassins were being slaughtered beside him and all around his compound as he fought.

Talia was bringing up his rear and his trusted elites were leading the charge. He received word that Damian was fighting off his own hoard of insurgence.

Approaching the safe room, Talia tapped in a code, Ra’s stood nearby then suddenly a pain ripped right through his head, and he stumbled back, hitting the wall. His blurred vision began to darken at the edges as he saw his daughter receive the same treatment.

________________________

He was tied. Blinking he realized that the elites were all pointing guns at him and Talia who was slowly groaning awake next to him. Looking around he deduced they were in a control room sat in front of a large screen.

The sound of heavy boots filled the room and in walked a fully covered head to toe assassin, no rigidity in his body language.

Ra’s growled, “Worthless vermin! Snake spawn!—I will---”

“ _You_ are in no condition to threaten Demon’s Head. Only watch.” The voice was indistinguishable, masked by a modulator.

Abruptly the screen flashed on and displayed an onslaught of various smaller screens of several locations.

Talia, fully awake now glowered, “Cretin—what is this?”

The assassin pushed a bottom, one by one the factions, affiliations, headquarters and compounds imploded in great bursts of fire. The assassin pushed the dispatch button, an influx of agonized and frantic screams and wails for reinforcements.

It hit like an earthquake, Ra’s and Talia’s eyes widened as a white-hot fury sliced down their backs.

“I asked myself, how does one hurt an Al Ghul...what would pierce the impenetrable skin of a demon?”

The concealed assassin slowly unfastened his helmet and pulled the faceplate off, revealing Damian, dull emerald irises betraying nothing in the way of nerve or hesitation.

If looks could kill...Damian wanted to laugh.

Ra’s growled manically, “Disreputable heathen! You will regret this!”

A ripple pasted through the assassin’s eyes, “I regret many things Grandfather but not this.”

Talia stared daggers at her son, “This won’t bring that trash back.”

Damian turned his head towards his mother, looked at her with a pitiful expression, “Of course it won’t Mother.”

A shot rings out and Talia, daughter of the Demon’s Head falls over with a thud, smoke still wafting from the gaping bullet hole in her head.

Bitterly resigned to his fate, the old man pushes his chin out, gray eyes cruel and arrogant.

“Recalcitrant and flawed, a waste of potential you’ve turned out to be.”

Damian stands in front of his grandfather, blinks and grins “Thank you for the compliment Grandfather.”

Ra’s’s face falls but before he can say another word, he’s blown away, brain matter sprayed against an elite soldier’s chest.

Breathing deeply, Damian unsheathes his katana, walks over to the bodies, and then in two swift swipes, beheads them.

Putting the heads in a sack, the blood dripping Damian ushers the commander over, “Clean up this mess.”

A nod and then quick footwork follows as the assassin ascends the stairs but stops short, staring down to look at the carnage. He then presses a button on the keypad and instantly the room is set aflame and as he closes the vents, and seals the door, he watches as the decapitated corpses of his family and the soldiers burn to a crisp.

________________________

He sits next to Aadya, petting behind her ear as he watches the bloodied sack disintegrate in hydrochloric acid.

Above he hears the ongoing chaos but all he feels is empty. The vat is dumped into a sewage line and Damian walks through the compound in a fog to the massive entrance of the fortress.

Taking one last look he inhales the mountain air, the moon high and pale and then exhales but as he’s about to press a button an unexpected exodus fire blasts out of nowhere and explodes the entire compound.

It’s enormous and glorious like a meteor shower. Aadya’s hair is flared and she is snarling which breaks Damian’s attention and he looks over his shoulder, katana in hand. What he sees in the corner of his eye makes him turn rapidly.

Descending from the sky like a god is Jon, tattered and dirtied shirt torn across his chest revealing pristine flesh, his face has grime on it but not so much that it diminishes his features. It’s the striking sky blue, now somewhat luminescent irises that shatter Damian’s stoic demeanor.

“ _H-habibi_...is, is it really...?”

Jon touched ground with an unsteady thud, still getting used to the newfound ability. He stares past Damian at the demolition, breath level and features devious but then he locks sight on Damian, takes in the other’s appearance.

Dressed in the attire of a standard assassin, face set in shock and apprehension. Jon’s face softens and he walks cautiously towards his estranged lover but stops short, his eye lands on the defensive panther whose set herself in front of Damian, growling.

He bends to one knee and lifts the back of his hand, head level to Aadya. The feline approaches, heckles still flared as she sniffs the appendage, licks and then sweeps her head under his palm, demanding a scratch.

The resurrected guard obliges and gives her a firm, gentle pat; his irises connect with Damian once more, who’s now slightly relaxed but still unsure, his eyes tumultuous.

He rises and walks past Aadya mere inches from the speechless man, “Damian... _My Liege_. I’m sorry it took so long.”

Damian frowned and then launched into Jon’s arms, “You’re right on time.”

Chuckling vibrates against Damian’s ribcage as Jon holds him tight and then seals their lips in a searing, starving kiss as their past burns to ash behind them.


End file.
